


in over my head

by neilwrites



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: 5+1 Things, Canon Compliant, Fluff and Crack, M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:09:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24596542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neilwrites/pseuds/neilwrites
Summary: Alternatively: 5 times Andrew pretended not to be sick and the one time he admitted to it
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 14
Kudos: 298





	in over my head

**Author's Note:**

> listen it just happened, enjoy  
> big thanks to [quills](http://twitter.com/nightquills) for the last minute beta and title idea!

#  1.

Sweat is dripping into Andrew’s brow, and he’s sure the teacher can tell. He’s starting to shiver under his three shirts and the teacher notices that too.

“Andrew, are you feeling okay?”

Andrew blinks. He’s not sure what sound will come out of his mouth if he opens it, so he just nods.

The teacher kneels down so she’s at eye level with him, and smiles encouragingly. “I think you’re sick, Andrew. Do you want me to call your parents?”

“No,” he squeaks. 

“No?” the teacher asks, surprised. “It’s really alright, I think it’s best for you to go home and rest.”

“No, don’t,” Andrew says hurriedly. “Don’t send me home. I’m not sick.”

The teacher smiles again. “I’ll take you to the nurse’s office, is that okay? It’s not safe for you to be around the other kids when you don’t feel so good.”

Despite his refusal, despite him saying he’s alright, he gets dragged into a separate room where a bored-looking woman takes one look at him and walks out to talk to his teacher.

He’s so tired, and his head hurts, and there’s a bed in the corner of the room that’s just comfortable enough for Andrew to fall asleep in.

When he wakes up, his foster dad is standing over him.

#  2.

The smell in the alley behind Eden’s has never been fantastic, but Andrew puking next to one of the dumpsters definitely didn’t improve things. 

His stomach has been in knots all day, but he could handle it. He skipped meals, tried to drink water when he could hold it down, had some dry crackers while no one was looking because his family is nosy as shit.

Apparently even those crackers did not sit well with him. He’s leaning his forehead against the bricks, careful not to step into his mess with his new shoes when he hears the back door open up.

He steels himself for the confrontation, wondering which front he’ll have to put up. If it’s Aaron, a long glare might be enough for him to back off. If it’s worse, if it’s Nicky, he might take it all in and start caring, and that’s the last thing Andrew needs right now.

It’s Roland.

He pushes away from the wall, hoping to obstruct the view of what happened.

“What’s up?” Roland asks, leans back against the door.

“Nothing,” Andrew croaks. There’s no subtle way of clearing his throat, so he ignores the scratchiness.

“You’ve been out here a while,” Roland says.

“Why, did you miss me?” Andrew asks, eyebrow raised to feign confidence.

Roland just smirks. “You don’t want me to answer that.”

“You’re right, I don’t.”

Roland lights up a cigarette, and the smoke turns Andrew’s stomach inside out.

“You want one?”

Andrew shakes his head and pushes down the nausea.

“I brought you a water,” Roland says and takes the bottle out of his back pocket. It’s ice-cold when he hands it over, and Andrew tries to resist holding it up against his forehead.

“Here,” he adds, and hands over two small white pills. “It’s over the counter, I promise.”

“I’m not sick,” Andrew says, taking the pills anyway.

“Sure,” Roland says. “Come see me if you need more.”

“This never happened,” Andrew says before swallowing the pills down. 

“Okay.”

“I’m not gonna thank you.”

Roland grins. “Okay.”

#  3.

Andrew has never underestimated Renee. The kind, innocent face is exactly what warned Andrew to look out for her, to take a special interest.

Renee is fierce, and strong, and has so many hidden muscles that even Andrew forgets sometimes, and subsequently gets himself thrown over her shoulder onto a gym mat so he can’t stand up for the next ten minutes.

She had taken pity on him, had dropped down next to him to give them both a break, and they didn’t carry on too much longer after that.

That was yesterday.

Andrew doesn’t feel like he can move.

He wakes up in his bed, staring up at the mattress above him, and tries to sit up. A sharp pain in his back holds him back, and he drops down immediately.

Fuck.

He leans back on his elbows, but even that sends pain up his spine, and it’s easier to fall back into his pillow and sigh.

Kevin storms into the bedroom with a morning temper and a hard-on for practice. “You’re not even dressed yet?”

“Fuck off, Kevin.”

“I will drag you over there myself.”

“Touch me and die, Kevin.”

“Oh, come on, what the fuck happened to already put you into this mood? You have to come to practice.”

“I don’t have to do shit.”

“You’re on a scholarship.”

Andrew sighs and wishes he could roll his eyes. “Get out.”

“Andrew,” Kevin says, and Andrew wishes he could lift his arm to flip him off.

“I won’t repeat myself.”

Kevin storms out, slamming the door behind him, and Andrew starts the painful process of getting out of bed. He’s thankful that he has the bottom bunk since he’s pretty sure he would have never made it out of the top one.

By the time he’s dressed and makes it down to the parking lot where Renee is waiting with the upperclassmen, he’s been able to put up a good front.

Renee winks at him and he scowls, but he sees the way the others are giving each other less than subtle looks at their interaction.

He throws Nicky his car keys, who was not prepared and fumbles them.

He painstakingly drops himself into the passenger seat and leans the seat all the way back, making Aaron and Kevin squeeze into the two remaining seats in the back, which thoroughly amuses him.

By the time they get to court, he can move around okay, but he knows he can’t play. Luckily for him, Andrew not doing shit during practice isn’t out of the ordinary, and Coach only yells at him in exasperation two times before giving up.

There’s a folded piece of paper with a pain pill inside in his coat pocket when he gets back to his locker, and he knows it’s Renee’s way of apologizing even though she doesn’t have fuck all to apologize for. 

Still, he won’t thank her for it.

#  4.

He can hear the rest of the team celebrating their win as they make their way to the locker room. Meanwhile, Andrew is sitting in the corner of Abby’s office, arms wrapped around his knees and leaning his forehead against them.

He’s sweating all over, wants to take his shirt off, his armbands off, but he won’t do that until he’s safe, at home, in the comfort of their bathroom with a lock.

Sure, Abby’s office has a lock too, but there are too many people around, and no one needs to see him like this.

There’s a knock on the door, which Andrew ignores. He couldn’t get up to answer it if he wanted to. He’s jittery, feels restless but he can’t bring himself to move.

“Minyard,” Coach’s voice rings through the door. “We need to bring Josten in there, what do you want us to do?”

“Whatever,” is all Andrew can say. He scowls when someone turns on the lights, squeezes his eyes shut against his knees as Abby brings Neil in. Coach doesn’t say anything before leaving, and Andrew knows he doesn’t like this any more than Andrew does. 

“You look like shit,” Neil says, right before wincing as Abby nudges his ribs.

Andrew pretends to smile. “Have you seen yourself?”

“Not if I can help it,” Neil says.

Abby instructs him to lay down before leaning down near Andrew.

“How are you holding up?”

“Just peachy,” he says.

Abby waits him out.

“I’m fit as a fiddle.”

A raised eyebrow.

“Never felt better.”

“So you won’t mind if I dismiss you like this?”

Andrew scowls. “Coach told me to stay in here. You won’t send me away.”

“Then let me take care of you.”

“Nothing to take care of. Gimme an hour and I’ll be out of your hair.”

Abby sighs. “I want to help you, Andrew.”

“You can help me by getting me some vodka.”

“You’re an absolute pest.”

“A genetic trait, I’m afraid.” Andrew leans his head back against the cold wall. “Serious about that vodka, though. Tell Coach he owes me.”

Abby rolls her eyes but leaves the room regardless.

He can feel Neil’s eyes on him.

“What do you want?”

“So how sick are you, really?” Neil asks, which Andrew thinks is pretty ironic given he’s not the one on a nurse’s bed icing his ribcage.

“I’m not sick,” Andrew says, just repressing the urge to revisit what he had for lunch.

“Sure, that’s why you look like you’re gonna puke.” It’s almost impressive how high Neil can pull his eyebrow up while lying down.

“Shut up, maybe that’s just my face.”

“Nu-uh, I’ve seen your face,” Neil says, probably unaware of how that could sound. Andrew would really love that vodka now.

“I’ll get up and poke your ribs if you don’t shut up.”

“Will you? Will you really?”

What an annoying piece of shit he is. Andrew can’t believe he likes him.

“Genuinely, I’d love to see you stand up.”

If Andrew wasn’t so sure rolling his eyes would make him sick, they’d be at the back of his skull right now.

#  5.

Aaron pushes him back into the sofa when he tries to get up.

“G’off me,” Andrew says before swinging his hands in his direction. It’s a little hard when there’s two of him.

“Then sit down, asshole.”

“No, f’ck off, I have an exam.”

Both Aarons audibly sigh. “Then let me call you in sick, they’ll let you retake it.”

“No,” Andrew yells louder than he intended. “’M not even sick.”

“Oh really, how many fingers am I holding up?”

He knows this is a trick. There are two Aarons, he can just divide whatever he sees by two.

Wait, when did a third Aaron turn up?

“How many, Andrew?”

Fucking hell. That’s a lot of fingers. “Seven?”

“I’ve only got one hand up, Jesus.”

Damn it.

“I’m not sick.”

“I’ve found three snotty tissues in my shoes this morning.”

“They’re ugly shoes. It was an act of rebellion.”

“Andrew, just lie down. You don’t even have to fucking admit you’re sick if that’s the problem.”

“I’m not sick,” Andrew repeats himself. “I’m a Minyard, and Minyards don’t get sick.”

“What?” Aaron is quiet for a few seconds before continuing. “What the fuck?”

Andrew coughs in his sleeve and hopes the Aarons don’t notice.

“How are you this dumb? I’m pre-med, Andrew.”

“So,” Andrew says petulantly.

“I have been sick numerous times. In front of you. You’ve cleaned me up before.”

“Maybe I’m just the stronger Minyard.”

Getting that unimpressed look from three separate people is not fun.

“I’m gonna call your professor, gonna make you some soup, and then we can see how not sick you are, alright? Can I trust you to get in your pj’s all by yourself?”

Andrew scowls. “I want ice cream.”

“Soup first.”

“So you’ll get me ice cream?”

Aaron sighs and gives him some type of exasperated smile.  _ Disgusting _ .

Andrew nearly topples over when he gets up to go change. “Tell me you’ll get me ice cream, Aaron.”

“Admit you’re sick, Andrew.”

“Never.”

Aaron shrugs.

“I hate you so much.”

Incredulously, that makes Aaron smile more. “Okay.”

“I mean it.”

“Alright.”

“Stop smiling.”

“Sure thing, hey, look up for me?”

“What, why—Are you taking pictures?”

#  +1.

The minute Andrew wakes up, he knows he’s in trouble. His throat feels like sandpaper, there’s a headache brewing right above his eyes, and he can’t breathe out of his left nostril.

He pulls the duvet over his head, burrows into the sheets until no light can reach him.

It’s only when he hears the muffled “What the fuck?” next to him that he remembers he’s not alone in the bed.

“Andrew?”

“Hmm,” he answers, and even that was difficult to say.

“You wanna tell me what’s going on?”

“Go away.”

“Hmm, sure, if you tell me why.”

Fucking hell, he hates him.

“I’m pleading the…” Andrew struggles to think. “The, uh…”

“Yes?”

“The one that says I don’t have to talk.”

“You’re doing a lot of talking for someone refusing to talk.”

His head hurts. “Shut up.”

“Can you show me your face so I know you haven’t been mauled by a wicked monster in your sleep?”

“No, go away.”

“I insist, Andrew.”

“Then  _ why did you ask _ ?”

The blanket is peeled away from his face.

“Hi,” Neil says.

Andrew blinks in the face of all that brightness. “Hello.”

“Wanna tell me what’s going on?”

Andrew pouts, because he feels like it. “I’m sick.”

“Hmm, I see,” Neil says. “What are we going to do about that?”

“ _ We’re _ not doing anything,” Andrew says and tries to clear his throat of the dust bunnies inside. “You’ll get sick if you stay.”

“Oh no,” Neil says, raising his hand to his forehead dramatically and falling down onto the bed.

“You’re an idiot,” Andrew says, or asks—he’s not entirely sure.

“Yes,” Neil confirms. “We know this about me, keep up.”

“I can’t, my head hurts.”

Neil grins at him. “Can I kiss it better?”

“Don’t be gross, I’m covered in sweat. Also, I’m not five.”

“You’re refusing my kisses?”

“I’m postponing them. Bring me ice cream instead.”

Neil sighs and looks apologetic. “It’s ten in the morning, so that’s gonna have to wait. How about I help you into the shower?”

Hmm. That does sound nice. But also like effort.

“You joining me?”

“Why, Andrew Minyard, I am shocked—”

Andrew snorts, which liberates one nostril but quickly blocks the other. “I’m not gonna suck your dick when I can’t breathe, I’ll die.”

“What a way, huh?”

Andrew scowls. “Suck your own dick from now on.”

“I don’t think I’m that limber,” Neil says like he actually pictured it, and Andrew still can’t believe he likes the guy.

He pushes Neil’s face away. “Shower, ice cream, cuddles. Yes?”

Neil drops his body on top of Andrew’s, right over the duvet, braces his arms next to Andrew’s face and kisses him square on his sweaty forehead. “Yes.”

**Author's Note:**

> i'm on [twitter!](http://twitter.com/neilmoony)  
> 


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